Nature, deranged by bodily illness and mental trouble, provided no nourishment for the little one; but this, which under happier circumstances would have been a disappointment, called forth no expressions of regret from the patient sufferer.  When Tulee held the babe before her in its first dress, she smiled faintly, but immediately closed her eyes.  As she lay there, day after day, with the helpless little creature nestling in her arms, the one consoling reflection was that she had not given birth to a daughter.  A chaos of thoughts were revolving through her mind; the theme of all the variations being how different it was from what it might have been, if the ideal of her girlhood had not been shattered so cruelly.  Had it not been for that glimmering light in the future which Madame so assiduously presented to her view, courage would have forsaken her utterly.  As it was, she often listened to the dash of the sea with the melancholy feeling that rest might be found beneath its waves.  But she was still very young, the sky was bright, the earth was lovely, and she had a friend who had promised to provide a safe asylum for her somewhere.  She tried to regain her strength, that she might leave the island, with all its sad reminders of departed happiness.  Thinking of this, she rose one day and wandered into the little parlor to take a sort of farewell look.  There was the piano, so long unopened, with a whole epic of love and sorrow in its remembered tones; the pretty little table her mother had painted; the basket she had received from her father after his death; Floracita’s paintings and mosses; and innumerable little tokens of Gerald’s love.  Walking round slowly and feebly in presence of all those memories, how alone she felt, with none to speak to but Tulee and the old colored mammy,—­she, who had been so tenderly cared for by her parents, so idolized by him to whom she gave her heart!  She was still gazing pensively on these souvenirs of the past, when her attention was arrested by Tom’s voice, saying:  “Dar’s a picaninny at de Grat Hus.  How’s turrer picaninny?”

The thought rushed upon her, “Ah, that baby had a father to welcome it and fondle it; but my poor babe—­” A sensation of faintness came over her; and, holding on by the chairs and tables, she staggered back to the bed she had left.

Before the babe was a fortnight old, Tom announced that he was to accompany his master to New Orleans, whither he had been summoned by business.  The occasion was eagerly seized by Rosa to send a letter and some small articles to Madame and the Signor.  Tulee gave him very particular directions how to find the house, and charged him over and over again to tell them everything.  When she cautioned him not to let his master know that he carried anything, Tom placed his thumb on the tip of his nose, and moved the fingers significantly, saying:  “Dis ere nigger ha’n’t jus’ wakum’d up.  Bin wake mos’ ob de time sense twar daylight.”  He foresaw it would be difficult to execute the commission he had undertaken; for as a slave he of course had little control over his own motions.  He, however, promised to try; and Tulee told him she had great confidence in his ingenuity in finding out ways and means.